Fic: Dance with the Devil 3/ 3
Story: Dance with the Devil
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, John Hart
Rated: PG13
Summary: Harkness's only problem is that he's forgotten the primary law of jungle survival: look out for number one.
Written for kholly in return for a very generous donation in the March Support Stacie auction. This story is a sequel to Doctor Faustus Dances, also written for kholly after last year's September auction. With very many thanks to the usual suspects, dark_aegis and yamx - couldn't have done it without you!
Chapter 1: Twist l Chapter 2: Chaines
Chapter 3: Paso Doble
Jack follows the Doctor out of the TARDIS, as they planned. Hart’s right on time; they saw him arrive on the TARDIS monitor just a couple of seconds before the five minutes were up.
And one thing Jack’s completely certain of right now is that Hart’s going to pay for what he’s doing to Rose. They both heard her cry of pain after she shouted out to the Doctor not to do as Hart was demanding, and right now he can see that the way Hart’s holding her is hurting her too.
He’s watching Hart like a hawk, so he sees his ex-partner’s expression turn from triumphant anticipation to fury. “I told you I wanted his dead body.” The gun in his hand moves to Rose’s head. “This better be good.”
The Doctor moves to stand beside Jack, shoulder to shoulder. “Simple. You want the Captain dead, you kill him.”
Hart’s face contorts with rage, and he presses the gun harder against Rose’s skull. Rose winces, but stands her ground, her gaze focused on the two of them. God, she’s amazing. She’s got to be terrified, but she’s showing no fear, and her expression says that she trusts the two of them to get them all out of this safely.
“I said dead, Doctor,” Hart snaps, and he’s obviously hanging onto his control by a thread. That could be good - or it could be very dangerous for Rose. “You’ve got until the count of five to kill him, or I pull this trigger.”
“Can’t do that,” the Doctor drawls. “You told me not to bring any weapons. Told you, you want him dead, kill him yourself.”
Come on, Hart, you bastard. Make your move. Jack’s still not taking his eye off Hart, every muscle in his body poised to run to Rose the instant his ex-partner takes his complete attention away from her. Yeah, Hart will try to shoot him once he sees he’s running, but he’ll be a moving target. Much harder to hit, and to do any serious damage to.
“Well?” the Doctor taunts. “What d’you want?”
“I could kill all three of you,” Hart growls, and that’s good. He’s really starting to lose it. “Starting with her, then Harkness, then you.”
The Doctor laughs, and it’s so completely not what Hart expected that the guy’s focus shifts. His eyes widen, and his weapon hand shifts just a little.
A little more, Jack pleads silently. Just a little more, and then he can take his chance.
“You’d never make it,” the Doctor says, and Jack could really believe that he’s amused by the situation. The guy can definitely act. “Jack would’ve broken your neck by the time Rose hits the ground. An’ don’t say you don’t believe it. You were his partner for seven years, right?”
“I’ll kill him first, then!”
Hart swings his gun hand away from Rose and towards Jack. Damnit, this isn’t what he was expecting. If he tries to run now, he’ll be dead before he’s finished his first stride. Not what the Doctor intended to achieve.
And then Hart cries out in pain, and he bends, clutching his shin.
***
Rose smothers a grin as she kicks out again, this time knocking Hart’s gun out of his hand and swinging her foot further to catch him on the thigh - missing her intended goal by inches. Hart throws himself forward, trying to grab the gun, but she shoves him aside with her hip, grateful for the ridged boots she’s wearing courtesy of the TARDIS that are helping her to stand on the ice. She reaches it herself, kicking it hard over towards Jack and the Doctor.
She’s gonna keep these boots. That kick to Hart’s shin really did the trick. She hopes the bone’s fractured.
Jack’s in front of her then, grabbing Hart’s blaster and aiming it at the guy. And the Doctor’s there, reaching out for her, pulling her into his arms and a rib-crushing hug. “You all right?” he asks, his breath tickling her ear.
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Well, drugged me, but I think it’s worn off now.”
The Doctor nods. “Best check you out back in the TARDIS, all the same.”
She cranes her neck to see past the Doctor. Jack’s still got Hart at gun-point. “You always were a damn coward,” he’s saying. “You wanted me dead, should’ve killed me yourself.”
“Obviously still fancies you,” the Doctor says, amused contempt in his voice. “Just couldn’t let himself do it.”
“Bastard!” Hart spits in the Doctor’s direction. The Doctor neatly side-steps, letting go of Rose.
“Takes one to know one,” Jack comments, amused.
Hart starts to lunge upwards, but Jack shoves him back down to the icy ground with a kick to his shoulder. “Oh, for god’s sake, just shoot me and get it over with,” Hart says, as if he’s just completely bored rather than being pinned on the ground with a weapon aimed at his head.
Rose glances at Jack; his expression suggests barely-restrained anger. How on earth did those two survive as partners for all that time? Or has Jack really changed that much? Not that much, she concludes. There’s no way he was ever like Hart. He just doesn’t have it in him to be that carelessly cruel, to revel in other people’s suffering.
“He’s not gonna kill you.” The Doctor’s voice is laced with scorn.
“I’m not?” Jack glances around at the Doctor, but his hand gripping the gun doesn’t waver, and his finger doesn’t move from where it’s resting against the trigger. “What if he comes after Rose again?”
“He won’t.” Now the Doctor’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile. “No-one gets a third chance to hurt anyone of mine.”
Rose’s breath catches in her throat. What’s the Doctor going to do? He’s not going to kill Hart, surely? Though it’s not as if she doesn’t know he’s capable of it. But he doesn’t tend to kill with his own hands, as a rule. She’s seen him stand by and let someone else do the killing, or do nothing while other forces act to achieve what he wants - like with Cassandra.
“Get up,” the Doctor orders Hart, his voice cold and very imperious. She almost shivers. Jack’s expression’s grown wary too, she notices.
Hart doesn’t move at first. Then Jack takes a step back and gestures, the gun still aimed. Hart scrambles to his feet, slipping a couple of times on the glassy ice, then standing, favouring his injured shin.
“Hold out your left arm,” the Doctor commands. Hart obeys. The Doctor steps closer to him and runs the sonic screwdriver over Hart’s wrist computer. Then, dropping Hart’s arm, he instructs in a soft but still dangerous voice, “Close your eyes.”
She watches in bemusement as the Doctor places his index fingers against Hart’s temples. Hart’s body jerks as if in shock, but then he stills and his head dips a little. The Doctor continues holding him for another few seconds, then he drops his fingers and picks up Hart’s wrist again. Another application of the screwdriver, and suddenly the Time Agent flickers and vanishes.
The Doctor turns, one of his idiot grins on his face, and it’s as if the terrifying version of him from two minutes ago never existed. “Put that gun away, Jack. It might go off and then what would happen?”
***
That was easier than he thought it’d be. But then, he does only take the best. And these are two of the very best.
Rose’s well-timed kick, and Jack’s immediate, instinctive response to it, are what got them out of this. Yes, it was his idea to throw Hart off-balance by coming out with Jack clearly alive and well, but he had no plan beyond that.
“Nice work, you two,” he says as Jack shoves the blaster in his back pocket - the lad really is far too casual about weapons. “Now, I believe someone said somethin’ about hot chocolate?”
“Wait.” Rose is still standing exactly where she was when Hart vanished. “What just happened here? What did you do to him? Were you...” She frowns, as if wondering how to explain what she’s thinking. “His head...?”
“Telepathic, me. You know that.” He shrugs. “I convinced him that he’s never heard of Jack Harkness. Or the two of us. An’ that Time Lords an’ TARDISes are just a myth. He won’t come chasin’ after us again, ‘specially since I’m assuming his little games now and back on Mirage weren’t official Time Agency business.” He turns to Jack. “If I’m right, it’s not anything he wanted the Agency to know about. If it was official business, he wouldn’t want you dead. He’d have been taking you in.”
“Right.” Jack nods. “That makes sense.”
“Did a better job on his Vortex manipulator this time, too. Your biosignature’s gone, and the enhanced tracking feature he somehow got installed is scrambled. He won’t get that fixed.” The Doctor grins. “Then I sent him back to the Jurassic era.”
Jack grins in appreciation. But Rose is still frowning. “How will that stop him remembering Jack? They were partners for years.”
Jack nods, and his grin starts to fade. “That’s true. There’s no way he wouldn’t remember. You’d have to wipe ten years of his memories.”
“Nah. Leave that sort of thing to your Time Agency.” He turns and starts walking back to the TARDIS. Time they all got inside out of the cold - not that it bothers him, but Jack and Rose are starting to shiver. Probably reaction as much as anything else, but either way they’ll be better off inside. “I just wiped today and the other times he saw you after you left the Agency, then blocked your name and face from his mind. He’ll know he had a partner, and he’ll remember the name you were using then, but any time he tries to remember your face he’ll get a splittin’ headache.” He grins at his two companions, who have fallen into step beside him. “He’ll soon figure out it’s best not to think about you.”
Rose hugs his arm. Jack is silent for several moments, then says, his voice uneven, “Thank you, Doctor. I... yeah. Thanks.”
He studies the lad carefully for a couple of moments, then raises his hand to rest it on Jack’s shoulder. Jack’ll learn sooner or later that he takes care of his companions.
Though there’s something else Jack needs to learn first - which will keep until they’re inside and warm.
“Come on. Hot chocolate in the library as soon as we’re in the Vortex, all right?” He pats Jack’s shoulder, pulls his arm free of Rose’s hand and pats her back, then jogs the few feet to the ship. They’re right behind him as he unlocks the door.
***
“Doctor, couldn’t you have given Jack a drug of some sort so he looked dead?” Rose asks once they’re sprawled in armchairs in the library, sipping hot chocolate.
Jack’s eyes widen. “I didn’t think of that.” He should have. It’s an obvious solution. Then the Doctor could have traded him for Rose and he could have taken Hart by surprise as soon as the drug wore off.
“I did,” the Doctor says. “Too risky. Even if he’d been fooled, what would it have achieved? Hart would’ve just had you prisoner instead of Rose, and he’d have killed you as soon as he realised you were alive. Wasn’t having that.”
And that’s what makes Jack’s head spin about this whole business. Not once, as far as he can tell, did the Doctor contemplate sacrificing him to get Rose back. That just boggles him. Yes, all right, he’d expect the Doctor to start with the objective of keeping them all alive, but in the Doctor’s situation he’d have had a fallback position: save the one who matters more. If he’s understanding everything the Doctor said and did in the last half-hour, that wasn’t ever an acceptable outcome.
It goes against every rule of strategy he’s ever been taught. And he can’t decide whether the Doctor’s hopelessly naïve or incredibly clever.
“I could have taken Hart,” he replies after a pause. “He wouldn’t have been expecting me to revive, after all.”
The Doctor gives him a sceptical look. “What, after being drugged? Would’ve taken you a second or two to realise where you were an’ what’d happened, and by that time he’d have killed you. Nah, stupid idea, that. Which reminds me,” the Doctor adds, and his brows draw together in a forbidding look, “I should make you clean out the console solenoids for that other stupid idea of yours.”
“What idea?” he asks, seeing Rose look puzzled as well.
The Doctor sets his mug down heavily; splashes of chocolate drop onto the table. “Imagining for one second that I’d go along with what that idiot cretin Hart wanted and either kill you or let you kill yourself. Don’t ever try to sacrifice your life like that again.”
“You did what?” Before Jack can answer, pointing out to the Doctor how that was absolutely the sensible thing to do, Rose has jumped to her feet. “Jack, you stupid bloody git!” She’s in front of him before he can even blink, shaking him by the shoulders.
“Oh, he did,” the Doctor says dryly. “Handed me his gun an’ told me to shoot him. Then when I wouldn’t, he threatened to shoot himself. Stupid ape.”
“Oh, god.” Rose shakes him harder. “Don’t ever do that again, Jack. Just don’t!”
He catches hold of her and stands, peeling her hands away from his shoulders, and it’s then he notices the tears in her eyes.
“Rose, don’t! I’m not worth it,” he protests. “And anyway, what mattered was saving y-”
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare, Jack Harkness!” she shouts at him, managing to pull one hand free. She thumps his chest. One tear splashes onto the hand that’s still holding her other hand.
“I’d listen to her, lad,” the Doctor says from behind him, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
He looks over his shoulder at the Doctor, and the sympathy and understanding he sees in the Time Lord’s eyes steal his breath. He has to look away, but then all he can see and hear is Rose crying and telling him that he is worth it.
She’s wrong, of course she is. He’s not worth it - never was, never will be. But it’s been a long time since anyone believed he was worth their tears.
And, oddly, he still can hardly breathe because now there’s a huge lump in his throat, and his vision’s starting to blur. The Doctor must have put something in the chocolate, right? That’s the only reason...
Rose’s arms wrap around him and she presses her face into his shoulder. From behind him, the Doctor’s hand rests firmly on the back of his neck, and then the Time Lord’s other arm is around both him and Rose.
He gives up the pretence, buries his face in Rose’s hair and lets the tears fall.
***
Jack’s finally got the message that he’s not expendable.
It hadn’t occurred to her before this evening - nor, she thinks, to the Doctor - that he imagined he was. Apparently, the Doctor saving him from his ship, and from Hart on Mirage, wasn’t enough proof for him.
This third time seems to have done it, though. Good.
Eventually, Jack pulls back from the hug and then leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Rose’s lips. He doesn’t speak, but then he doesn’t need to. She knows.
It’s a surprise, though, when he leans past her shoulder and kisses the Doctor too, in exactly the same way. The Doctor says nothing, but she notices that he slides his hand up to Jack’s head, fingers disappearing into Jack’s dark hair. Watching them, the sense memory of Jack’s lips on hers still in her mind, her breath starts to catch.
Then the Doctor breaks away, all manic smiles and excess energy again, and the mood changes.
“Right! Where d’you want to go next?”
She’s about to put in a demand for somewhere warm, with sun and soft grass and temperatures no lower than mid-thirties Celsius, when Jack slides his hand into hers. “Are you okay?”
That makes her start. Why-? But... yeah. She’s fine. Weird - she was focusing so much on Jack and what the Doctor told her he tried to do that she almost forgot about being kidnapped. She gives him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Yeah?” There’s doubt in his eyes and his voice. “Look, I know what Hart’s capable of, and we saw him hurt you on that transmission.”
“Yeah.” The Doctor comes closer, and there’s concern in his eyes too. “Should’ve asked. Bastard hurt you, though you made him pay for it.” His quick grin shows admiration and approval. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine!” she protests again. “Honest. Other than what you saw, he didn’t hurt me. Too focused on telling me all about his brilliant plan to get revenge on Jack.” She shrugs. “I mean, maybe he would’ve killed me - you too, Doctor - once he got what he wanted, but until then he wasn’t interested.”
“Good.” The Doctor hugs her again, and she drops Jack’s hand to hug back, nestling into his body. He doesn’t usually dwell on events, and it’s a surprise that he’s offering her more comfort now instead of rushing them on to their next destination. But maybe he needs this as much as she does.
His grip loosens, and he bends his head, pressing a kiss against her forehead, then releases her and does the same to Jack. He’s striding towards the door before either of them has a chance to react.
“Get a move on, you lazy lumps!” he taunts, glancing back. “Well?”
Jack grins at her and she smiles back, sharing his amusement, and takes his hand again as they follow the Doctor out of the library. No matter how much he surprised her in the last few minutes, some things will never change about the Doctor - and she wouldn’t want it any other way.
***
Captain John Hart comes to with the realisation that he’s eating dirt.
He’s lying face-down on a patch of hard earth, with no recollection of where he is or how he managed to trip and fall in the first place. His first impulse is to reach for his gun before moving - what if there’s an enemy lurking somewhere just waiting to kill him as soon as he shows signs of life?
His holster’s empty. Damn.
Groaning - for some reason, his lower leg feels badly bruised - he manages to pull himself to his feet, but not without almost falling over a couple of times. His head’s swimming and completely muzzy. A hangover? Did he get completely shit-faced before falling down out here? It’d explain why he doesn’t remember anything about how he got here or what he was doing before winding up with a mouth full of soil.
But if he was drinking, then where? There’s nothing around except trees. They’re fairly exotic trees, so it could be somewhere tropical - assuming he’s on Earth - but there’s no sign of civilisation anywhere. Grass and trees, and a river off somewhere in the distance if the silvery glint he can see is anything to go by, and further away some hills. Nowhere that looks remotely like a pub, or even an inter-stellar docking station with a bar attached.
In fact, he’d almost swear he’s not only thousands of miles, but also thousands of years from anything resembling a pub or a docking station.
Where was he before this happened? What was he doing? But the more he tries to remember, the more his head hurts like it’s going to burst.
A snuffling, snorting noise from behind makes him whirl around, hand going to his empty holster before he remembers.
There’s three of them, all watching him, long necks swaying, eyes curious. Three. Dinosaurs.
Two of them are diplodocuses and the third is... oh, yeah, a brontosaurus. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Herbivores. These dinosaurs were herbivores, right? Not that that’s a lot of comfort when they’re eying him as if he’s their next meal. But even if they don’t want to eat him, they’re huge. Enormous feet, not to mention those tails. Tails that are swishing alarmingly.
A high-pitched scream shatters the silence, followed by a flash as a panicked Hart activates his Vortex manipulator, sending himself back to the fifty-first century and civilisation.
It’s just his bad luck that he lands in someone’s ornamental pond.
- end
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, John Hart
Rated: PG13
Summary: Harkness's only problem is that he's forgotten the primary law of jungle survival: look out for number one.
Written for kholly in return for a very generous donation in the March Support Stacie auction. This story is a sequel to Doctor Faustus Dances, also written for kholly after last year's September auction. With very many thanks to the usual suspects, dark_aegis and yamx - couldn't have done it without you!
Chapter 1: Twist l Chapter 2: Chaines
Chapter 3: Paso Doble
Jack follows the Doctor out of the TARDIS, as they planned. Hart’s right on time; they saw him arrive on the TARDIS monitor just a couple of seconds before the five minutes were up.
And one thing Jack’s completely certain of right now is that Hart’s going to pay for what he’s doing to Rose. They both heard her cry of pain after she shouted out to the Doctor not to do as Hart was demanding, and right now he can see that the way Hart’s holding her is hurting her too.
He’s watching Hart like a hawk, so he sees his ex-partner’s expression turn from triumphant anticipation to fury. “I told you I wanted his dead body.” The gun in his hand moves to Rose’s head. “This better be good.”
The Doctor moves to stand beside Jack, shoulder to shoulder. “Simple. You want the Captain dead, you kill him.”
Hart’s face contorts with rage, and he presses the gun harder against Rose’s skull. Rose winces, but stands her ground, her gaze focused on the two of them. God, she’s amazing. She’s got to be terrified, but she’s showing no fear, and her expression says that she trusts the two of them to get them all out of this safely.
“I said dead, Doctor,” Hart snaps, and he’s obviously hanging onto his control by a thread. That could be good - or it could be very dangerous for Rose. “You’ve got until the count of five to kill him, or I pull this trigger.”
“Can’t do that,” the Doctor drawls. “You told me not to bring any weapons. Told you, you want him dead, kill him yourself.”
Come on, Hart, you bastard. Make your move. Jack’s still not taking his eye off Hart, every muscle in his body poised to run to Rose the instant his ex-partner takes his complete attention away from her. Yeah, Hart will try to shoot him once he sees he’s running, but he’ll be a moving target. Much harder to hit, and to do any serious damage to.
“Well?” the Doctor taunts. “What d’you want?”
“I could kill all three of you,” Hart growls, and that’s good. He’s really starting to lose it. “Starting with her, then Harkness, then you.”
The Doctor laughs, and it’s so completely not what Hart expected that the guy’s focus shifts. His eyes widen, and his weapon hand shifts just a little.
A little more, Jack pleads silently. Just a little more, and then he can take his chance.
“You’d never make it,” the Doctor says, and Jack could really believe that he’s amused by the situation. The guy can definitely act. “Jack would’ve broken your neck by the time Rose hits the ground. An’ don’t say you don’t believe it. You were his partner for seven years, right?”
“I’ll kill him first, then!”
Hart swings his gun hand away from Rose and towards Jack. Damnit, this isn’t what he was expecting. If he tries to run now, he’ll be dead before he’s finished his first stride. Not what the Doctor intended to achieve.
And then Hart cries out in pain, and he bends, clutching his shin.
***
Rose smothers a grin as she kicks out again, this time knocking Hart’s gun out of his hand and swinging her foot further to catch him on the thigh - missing her intended goal by inches. Hart throws himself forward, trying to grab the gun, but she shoves him aside with her hip, grateful for the ridged boots she’s wearing courtesy of the TARDIS that are helping her to stand on the ice. She reaches it herself, kicking it hard over towards Jack and the Doctor.
She’s gonna keep these boots. That kick to Hart’s shin really did the trick. She hopes the bone’s fractured.
Jack’s in front of her then, grabbing Hart’s blaster and aiming it at the guy. And the Doctor’s there, reaching out for her, pulling her into his arms and a rib-crushing hug. “You all right?” he asks, his breath tickling her ear.
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Well, drugged me, but I think it’s worn off now.”
The Doctor nods. “Best check you out back in the TARDIS, all the same.”
She cranes her neck to see past the Doctor. Jack’s still got Hart at gun-point. “You always were a damn coward,” he’s saying. “You wanted me dead, should’ve killed me yourself.”
“Obviously still fancies you,” the Doctor says, amused contempt in his voice. “Just couldn’t let himself do it.”
“Bastard!” Hart spits in the Doctor’s direction. The Doctor neatly side-steps, letting go of Rose.
“Takes one to know one,” Jack comments, amused.
Hart starts to lunge upwards, but Jack shoves him back down to the icy ground with a kick to his shoulder. “Oh, for god’s sake, just shoot me and get it over with,” Hart says, as if he’s just completely bored rather than being pinned on the ground with a weapon aimed at his head.
Rose glances at Jack; his expression suggests barely-restrained anger. How on earth did those two survive as partners for all that time? Or has Jack really changed that much? Not that much, she concludes. There’s no way he was ever like Hart. He just doesn’t have it in him to be that carelessly cruel, to revel in other people’s suffering.
“He’s not gonna kill you.” The Doctor’s voice is laced with scorn.
“I’m not?” Jack glances around at the Doctor, but his hand gripping the gun doesn’t waver, and his finger doesn’t move from where it’s resting against the trigger. “What if he comes after Rose again?”
“He won’t.” Now the Doctor’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile. “No-one gets a third chance to hurt anyone of mine.”
Rose’s breath catches in her throat. What’s the Doctor going to do? He’s not going to kill Hart, surely? Though it’s not as if she doesn’t know he’s capable of it. But he doesn’t tend to kill with his own hands, as a rule. She’s seen him stand by and let someone else do the killing, or do nothing while other forces act to achieve what he wants - like with Cassandra.
“Get up,” the Doctor orders Hart, his voice cold and very imperious. She almost shivers. Jack’s expression’s grown wary too, she notices.
Hart doesn’t move at first. Then Jack takes a step back and gestures, the gun still aimed. Hart scrambles to his feet, slipping a couple of times on the glassy ice, then standing, favouring his injured shin.
“Hold out your left arm,” the Doctor commands. Hart obeys. The Doctor steps closer to him and runs the sonic screwdriver over Hart’s wrist computer. Then, dropping Hart’s arm, he instructs in a soft but still dangerous voice, “Close your eyes.”
She watches in bemusement as the Doctor places his index fingers against Hart’s temples. Hart’s body jerks as if in shock, but then he stills and his head dips a little. The Doctor continues holding him for another few seconds, then he drops his fingers and picks up Hart’s wrist again. Another application of the screwdriver, and suddenly the Time Agent flickers and vanishes.
The Doctor turns, one of his idiot grins on his face, and it’s as if the terrifying version of him from two minutes ago never existed. “Put that gun away, Jack. It might go off and then what would happen?”
***
That was easier than he thought it’d be. But then, he does only take the best. And these are two of the very best.
Rose’s well-timed kick, and Jack’s immediate, instinctive response to it, are what got them out of this. Yes, it was his idea to throw Hart off-balance by coming out with Jack clearly alive and well, but he had no plan beyond that.
“Nice work, you two,” he says as Jack shoves the blaster in his back pocket - the lad really is far too casual about weapons. “Now, I believe someone said somethin’ about hot chocolate?”
“Wait.” Rose is still standing exactly where she was when Hart vanished. “What just happened here? What did you do to him? Were you...” She frowns, as if wondering how to explain what she’s thinking. “His head...?”
“Telepathic, me. You know that.” He shrugs. “I convinced him that he’s never heard of Jack Harkness. Or the two of us. An’ that Time Lords an’ TARDISes are just a myth. He won’t come chasin’ after us again, ‘specially since I’m assuming his little games now and back on Mirage weren’t official Time Agency business.” He turns to Jack. “If I’m right, it’s not anything he wanted the Agency to know about. If it was official business, he wouldn’t want you dead. He’d have been taking you in.”
“Right.” Jack nods. “That makes sense.”
“Did a better job on his Vortex manipulator this time, too. Your biosignature’s gone, and the enhanced tracking feature he somehow got installed is scrambled. He won’t get that fixed.” The Doctor grins. “Then I sent him back to the Jurassic era.”
Jack grins in appreciation. But Rose is still frowning. “How will that stop him remembering Jack? They were partners for years.”
Jack nods, and his grin starts to fade. “That’s true. There’s no way he wouldn’t remember. You’d have to wipe ten years of his memories.”
“Nah. Leave that sort of thing to your Time Agency.” He turns and starts walking back to the TARDIS. Time they all got inside out of the cold - not that it bothers him, but Jack and Rose are starting to shiver. Probably reaction as much as anything else, but either way they’ll be better off inside. “I just wiped today and the other times he saw you after you left the Agency, then blocked your name and face from his mind. He’ll know he had a partner, and he’ll remember the name you were using then, but any time he tries to remember your face he’ll get a splittin’ headache.” He grins at his two companions, who have fallen into step beside him. “He’ll soon figure out it’s best not to think about you.”
Rose hugs his arm. Jack is silent for several moments, then says, his voice uneven, “Thank you, Doctor. I... yeah. Thanks.”
He studies the lad carefully for a couple of moments, then raises his hand to rest it on Jack’s shoulder. Jack’ll learn sooner or later that he takes care of his companions.
Though there’s something else Jack needs to learn first - which will keep until they’re inside and warm.
“Come on. Hot chocolate in the library as soon as we’re in the Vortex, all right?” He pats Jack’s shoulder, pulls his arm free of Rose’s hand and pats her back, then jogs the few feet to the ship. They’re right behind him as he unlocks the door.
***
“Doctor, couldn’t you have given Jack a drug of some sort so he looked dead?” Rose asks once they’re sprawled in armchairs in the library, sipping hot chocolate.
Jack’s eyes widen. “I didn’t think of that.” He should have. It’s an obvious solution. Then the Doctor could have traded him for Rose and he could have taken Hart by surprise as soon as the drug wore off.
“I did,” the Doctor says. “Too risky. Even if he’d been fooled, what would it have achieved? Hart would’ve just had you prisoner instead of Rose, and he’d have killed you as soon as he realised you were alive. Wasn’t having that.”
And that’s what makes Jack’s head spin about this whole business. Not once, as far as he can tell, did the Doctor contemplate sacrificing him to get Rose back. That just boggles him. Yes, all right, he’d expect the Doctor to start with the objective of keeping them all alive, but in the Doctor’s situation he’d have had a fallback position: save the one who matters more. If he’s understanding everything the Doctor said and did in the last half-hour, that wasn’t ever an acceptable outcome.
It goes against every rule of strategy he’s ever been taught. And he can’t decide whether the Doctor’s hopelessly naïve or incredibly clever.
“I could have taken Hart,” he replies after a pause. “He wouldn’t have been expecting me to revive, after all.”
The Doctor gives him a sceptical look. “What, after being drugged? Would’ve taken you a second or two to realise where you were an’ what’d happened, and by that time he’d have killed you. Nah, stupid idea, that. Which reminds me,” the Doctor adds, and his brows draw together in a forbidding look, “I should make you clean out the console solenoids for that other stupid idea of yours.”
“What idea?” he asks, seeing Rose look puzzled as well.
The Doctor sets his mug down heavily; splashes of chocolate drop onto the table. “Imagining for one second that I’d go along with what that idiot cretin Hart wanted and either kill you or let you kill yourself. Don’t ever try to sacrifice your life like that again.”
“You did what?” Before Jack can answer, pointing out to the Doctor how that was absolutely the sensible thing to do, Rose has jumped to her feet. “Jack, you stupid bloody git!” She’s in front of him before he can even blink, shaking him by the shoulders.
“Oh, he did,” the Doctor says dryly. “Handed me his gun an’ told me to shoot him. Then when I wouldn’t, he threatened to shoot himself. Stupid ape.”
“Oh, god.” Rose shakes him harder. “Don’t ever do that again, Jack. Just don’t!”
He catches hold of her and stands, peeling her hands away from his shoulders, and it’s then he notices the tears in her eyes.
“Rose, don’t! I’m not worth it,” he protests. “And anyway, what mattered was saving y-”
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare, Jack Harkness!” she shouts at him, managing to pull one hand free. She thumps his chest. One tear splashes onto the hand that’s still holding her other hand.
“I’d listen to her, lad,” the Doctor says from behind him, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
He looks over his shoulder at the Doctor, and the sympathy and understanding he sees in the Time Lord’s eyes steal his breath. He has to look away, but then all he can see and hear is Rose crying and telling him that he is worth it.
She’s wrong, of course she is. He’s not worth it - never was, never will be. But it’s been a long time since anyone believed he was worth their tears.
And, oddly, he still can hardly breathe because now there’s a huge lump in his throat, and his vision’s starting to blur. The Doctor must have put something in the chocolate, right? That’s the only reason...
Rose’s arms wrap around him and she presses her face into his shoulder. From behind him, the Doctor’s hand rests firmly on the back of his neck, and then the Time Lord’s other arm is around both him and Rose.
He gives up the pretence, buries his face in Rose’s hair and lets the tears fall.
***
Jack’s finally got the message that he’s not expendable.
It hadn’t occurred to her before this evening - nor, she thinks, to the Doctor - that he imagined he was. Apparently, the Doctor saving him from his ship, and from Hart on Mirage, wasn’t enough proof for him.
This third time seems to have done it, though. Good.
Eventually, Jack pulls back from the hug and then leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Rose’s lips. He doesn’t speak, but then he doesn’t need to. She knows.
It’s a surprise, though, when he leans past her shoulder and kisses the Doctor too, in exactly the same way. The Doctor says nothing, but she notices that he slides his hand up to Jack’s head, fingers disappearing into Jack’s dark hair. Watching them, the sense memory of Jack’s lips on hers still in her mind, her breath starts to catch.
Then the Doctor breaks away, all manic smiles and excess energy again, and the mood changes.
“Right! Where d’you want to go next?”
She’s about to put in a demand for somewhere warm, with sun and soft grass and temperatures no lower than mid-thirties Celsius, when Jack slides his hand into hers. “Are you okay?”
That makes her start. Why-? But... yeah. She’s fine. Weird - she was focusing so much on Jack and what the Doctor told her he tried to do that she almost forgot about being kidnapped. She gives him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Yeah?” There’s doubt in his eyes and his voice. “Look, I know what Hart’s capable of, and we saw him hurt you on that transmission.”
“Yeah.” The Doctor comes closer, and there’s concern in his eyes too. “Should’ve asked. Bastard hurt you, though you made him pay for it.” His quick grin shows admiration and approval. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine!” she protests again. “Honest. Other than what you saw, he didn’t hurt me. Too focused on telling me all about his brilliant plan to get revenge on Jack.” She shrugs. “I mean, maybe he would’ve killed me - you too, Doctor - once he got what he wanted, but until then he wasn’t interested.”
“Good.” The Doctor hugs her again, and she drops Jack’s hand to hug back, nestling into his body. He doesn’t usually dwell on events, and it’s a surprise that he’s offering her more comfort now instead of rushing them on to their next destination. But maybe he needs this as much as she does.
His grip loosens, and he bends his head, pressing a kiss against her forehead, then releases her and does the same to Jack. He’s striding towards the door before either of them has a chance to react.
“Get a move on, you lazy lumps!” he taunts, glancing back. “Well?”
Jack grins at her and she smiles back, sharing his amusement, and takes his hand again as they follow the Doctor out of the library. No matter how much he surprised her in the last few minutes, some things will never change about the Doctor - and she wouldn’t want it any other way.
***
Captain John Hart comes to with the realisation that he’s eating dirt.
He’s lying face-down on a patch of hard earth, with no recollection of where he is or how he managed to trip and fall in the first place. His first impulse is to reach for his gun before moving - what if there’s an enemy lurking somewhere just waiting to kill him as soon as he shows signs of life?
His holster’s empty. Damn.
Groaning - for some reason, his lower leg feels badly bruised - he manages to pull himself to his feet, but not without almost falling over a couple of times. His head’s swimming and completely muzzy. A hangover? Did he get completely shit-faced before falling down out here? It’d explain why he doesn’t remember anything about how he got here or what he was doing before winding up with a mouth full of soil.
But if he was drinking, then where? There’s nothing around except trees. They’re fairly exotic trees, so it could be somewhere tropical - assuming he’s on Earth - but there’s no sign of civilisation anywhere. Grass and trees, and a river off somewhere in the distance if the silvery glint he can see is anything to go by, and further away some hills. Nowhere that looks remotely like a pub, or even an inter-stellar docking station with a bar attached.
In fact, he’d almost swear he’s not only thousands of miles, but also thousands of years from anything resembling a pub or a docking station.
Where was he before this happened? What was he doing? But the more he tries to remember, the more his head hurts like it’s going to burst.
A snuffling, snorting noise from behind makes him whirl around, hand going to his empty holster before he remembers.
There’s three of them, all watching him, long necks swaying, eyes curious. Three. Dinosaurs.
Two of them are diplodocuses and the third is... oh, yeah, a brontosaurus. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Herbivores. These dinosaurs were herbivores, right? Not that that’s a lot of comfort when they’re eying him as if he’s their next meal. But even if they don’t want to eat him, they’re huge. Enormous feet, not to mention those tails. Tails that are swishing alarmingly.
A high-pitched scream shatters the silence, followed by a flash as a panicked Hart activates his Vortex manipulator, sending himself back to the fifty-first century and civilisation.
It’s just his bad luck that he lands in someone’s ornamental pond.
- end